BYAM

"I usually don't have such a hard time waking you up. You must have stayed up pretty late last night, huh?" Bulma questioned her 11 year old son one morning during breakfast time at Capsule Corp.

"Er . . ." Trunks froze for a second with his fork in mid-air, and then quickly shoveled the rest of his pancakes into his mouth and offered his mother some incoherent reply.

Bulma narrowed her eyes at him. She knew she wouldn't get a truthful answer, she had just been curious as to what kind of excuse he would come up with. But considering the discovery she made in his room, she really didn't blame him for lying.

Trunks hopped up from the table and scooped up his backpack lying next to his chair on the floor. "Okay, I'm outta here," he offered a general farewell to his family before he rushed out of the kitchen.

"Bye sweetie!" Mrs. Brief chimed.

"Alright then," Dr. Brief acknowledged from behind his newspaper

"Be good!" Bulma called to the lavender haired boy's back.

"Catch ya later," he threw over his shoulder.

As soon she heard the front door slam shut behind Trunks, Bulma threw a quick glance at her parents down at the other end of the table and leaned in towards her husband eating breakfast next to her.

"Vegeta," she whispered.

"Why the hell are you whispering?" Vegeta asked in annoyance, making no attempt to match her voice level.

"Shhh! Keep it down," Bulma quietly admonished. She looked over at her parents again to make sure they remained oblivious to her and Vegeta's conversation. "Anyway," she continued, "You'll never guess what your son has been doing."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. Trunks was always his son whenever he did something wrong.

"What did he do this time?" Vegeta mumbled, raising his glass of orange juice to his lips.

"When I was trying to get him up this morning for school, I pulled back the comforter on his bed and his sheets were absolutely covered in semen! Semen stains everywhere!" Bulma hissed.

Vegeta spit his orange juice out all over the table. "Goddamnit woman, I'm eating!" he shouted, glaring disgustedly at his wife as he wiped at the juice dripping from his chin.

The elder Briefs looked up at the two of them in alarm. Bulma laughed awkwardly and deliberately avoided her parent's questioning gazes while she went to get a dish cloth to wipe up the juice.

Dr. Brief closed the newspaper he'd been reading while Mrs. Brief was chattering to him and stood up from his chair. "Well, I'm off to the garden now to see how my little friends are doing. Care to join me, dear?" he said to his wife, sensing that his daughter and son in law probably needed a moment to themselves. Mrs. Brief smiled and cheerfully agreed to accompany her husband, and they left the room together arm in arm. Bulma finished cleaning up the table then sat back down to resume her discussion with Vegeta again, this time speaking at a normal level.

"Yeah, apparently he got a hold of some of my dad's old dirty magazines and went to town on himself." Bulma sighed. "My little Trunksy is growing up too fast."

Vegeta sighed too—in lamentation over his lost appetite.

"I think it's time you had the talk with him," she said.

"I talk to the boy damn near every day."

"No, the talk. You need to talk to your son about sex."

"What for? Looks like he's halfway there already."

Bulma cut her eyes at him. "That is not funny Vegeta."

The Saiyan crossed his arms defiantly. "Who was joking?"

"Look, here on planet Earth when children begin to go through puberty and become curious about sex, their parents are supposed to step in and explain to them what it's all about instead of leaving them to just figure it out for themselves," she informed him as if she were lecturing to a dimwitted pupil.

Vegeta was not amused.

"Don't patronize me, woman! No one explained what sex was to me when I was his age and I think I figured it all out just fine," his voice took on a suggestive tone, "and then some. Wouldn't you agree Bulma?"

Bulma shivered involuntarily. Vegeta rarely said her name and he only said it like that when he was trying to seduce her, which at this point her body was practically hardwired to respond to. But she was determined to ignore her husband's flirtations and focus on the issue at hand.

"That's not what I m-, hey!" Bulma suddenly found herself out of her chair and laid out on top of the kitchen table with her husband leaning over her. She hadn't even seen Vegeta move.

"What are you doing? I'm trying to talk to you about something serious here! This is not the time!" she complained.

"Go ahead and talk, I'm listening," he said between applying wet kisses all over her neck.

Bulma cleared her throat authoritatively and tried her best to appear unfazed by his ministrations. "Like I was saying, that's not really what I meant. When you're at that age it's a lot easier on you if you have someone around to talk to about the changes your body goes through because it can be really confusing, and you're his father so-, really, Vegeta?!" Bulma exclaimed as her buttons loudly popped off her blouse from the force of it being completely ripped apart.

"What?"

"Was that really necessary? And you're not even listening to me!"

"Nonsense." He leaned down to abduct her lips with his own.

She was thoroughly enjoying the deep and sensual kiss before it ended all too quickly when he pulled away from her, along with her bra that he had swiftly unfastened during their lip lock.

"Honestly Vegeta," Bulma's eyelids fluttered as he descended on her again and began trailing a heated path down her body with his tongue. "I can't even make one little mention about sex without you being all over me. You have no self control."

He chuckled as he licked around her belly button. It was always entertaining to him when Bulma tried to act like she didn't want it just as badly as he did.

"And I suppose you know all about self control?" He pushed her skirt up around her hips.

"That's right." Bulma's voice was breathy in anticipation.

Vegeta hooked his fingers around the sides of her underwear and slid them down her legs. He held up the very obviously damp material up for her to see and smirked conceitedly. "Yes, I can see that." He tossed them to the floor.

"Okay, maybe not," she laughed. "But I wasn't finished—"

"It can wait." He slid his hands up her thighs.

"Well can we at least take this into the bedroom because-"

"No." He spread them open.

"But-"

"Woman, will you shut up already! You've already ruined my breakfast," Vegeta grabbed onto the backs of her knees and yanked her bottom down to the edge of the table. "I won't let you ruin this meal," he purred before burying his face into her center, effectively putting an end to any further objections.

Later that evening when Vegeta emerged from training in the indoor gravity room, Bulma was right outside the door waiting for him with her hands on her hips.

"So when are you going to talk to him?" she demanded.

Vegeta groaned irritably. The woman had been pestering him all day.

"Come on, Vegeta!"

"Why do I have to be the one to do it? Why don't you talk to him? Better yet, I don't even see what the big damn deal is!"

At that, Bulma was in his face an instant later with her finger at the ready to deal him a vicious chest poking while she told him off. "Listen buddy," -poke- "I don't care whether or not you think it's a big deal!" -poke- "You had better get in there," she pointed in the direction of Trunks' room, "And at least try to act like a good father," -poke- "Now go bond!"

Vegeta was indignant. "Are you trying to say I'm not a good father now?"

"I don't know, are you?" she pointed towards Trunks' room again provocatively and fixed her eyes on him.

The two of them stood there locked in a seemingly endless, fierce staring battle until Vegeta finally relented.

"Alright, FINE!"

Bulma smiled. "Wonderful. Do you know what you're going to say to him?"

Vegeta just shrugged and stared off to the side angrily refusing to look at her.

"Now Veggie, don't be that way," Bulma began in a sickeningly sweet voice, earning herself a glare from the corner of his eye. "All you have to do is assure him that what he's experiencing is perfectly natural and answer any questions he might have about sex and, you know, dealing with girls and stuff."

"Fine."

"Oh, but keep it clean, he's still a child after all so don't get too graphic."

"Fine."

"And, um, be sure to talk to him about his . . . his sheets."

"Fine."

"Vegeta?"

"What?" He bit the word out in extreme annoyance.

Bulma reached up and cupped his face with her hands, gently turning his head so that he was forced to look at her.

"I love you," she told him genuinely.

Vegeta regarded her with a bland expression and said nothing.

Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. "And you are a good father." She placed a kiss on his unmoving lips. "Pretty good husband too." She kissed him again and his lips remained inert. But she kept on undeterred and softly continued to coax him with her mouth, smiling in the middle of the kiss when he finally acquiesced and became an active and willing participant to her affection.

"Stupid damn woman." A freshly showered Vegeta was grumbling to himself as he approached his son's room door. He started to go right in without knocking like he usually would, but when he considered Bulma's little breakfast revelation he thought better of it. He gave three short raps on the door.

"Come on in," Trunks called out. Vegeta went inside, closing the door behind him and folded his arms across his chest.

"What's up, Dad?" Trunks paused his video game and set the game controller down next to him on the bed.

"So your mother tells me you've discovered the joys of jerking off. Congratulations," Vegeta announced sardonically.

Trunks eyes went wide. "Wha-, I didn't—"

"Next time use a rag or something so I don't have to hear about your filthy sheets over breakfast."

The half Saiyan blushed and could only nod dumbly as he avoided eye contact with his father. Vegeta sighed and grudgingly decided to dial down on the mockery. "Stop looking so damn pathetic, there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"But it is embarrassing, I can't believe mom-"

"To hell with her," Vegeta said dismissively. "You only did something that every single male in the universe does. She's not so stupid as to think you wouldn't do it too someday."

Trunks raised his lavender head hopefully. "So then, you do it too?"

"Of course not. I'm not that weak."

The lavender head fell again.

"Well it's not like I need to, I have your mother for that."

"Er, right." Trunks shifted in his spot on the bed uncomfortably.

Vegeta ignored the boy's discomfort and moved to pull out the chair from the desk adjacent to the bed and sit down, but paused when something on the desk caught his eye. He snatched up a piece of notebook paper intricately folded into the shape of a heart and smirked mischievously at his son. "Well, what do we have here?"

"Nothing, don't open that!" Trunks shot up off the bed and tried to seize the note from his father's hands. Vegeta easily evaded him while he examined the markings on the outside of the note written in glittery pink ink.

"To: You, From: Me." He snickered. "Oh, how discreet."

"Dad!" Trunks whined and made another grab for the note.

He swatted the boy's hands away and continued reading, "For your eyes only, read alone. BYAM." He raised an eyebrow. "BYAM?"

"If I tell you, will you promise to give it back?"

"Yes Trunks, I promise to give you your silly little letter back. Now tell me what it means."

"Between you and me."

"Not anymore."

"No! You promised!" Trunks frantically renewed his efforts to reclaim the piece of paper his father was in the process of opening.

Vegeta laughed. "I never said I'd give it back to you before I read it, brat." He couldn't believe the boy actually fell for that. Trunks latched onto his back desperately trying to prevent him from reading the letter, but Vegeta just pried him off and quickly subdued him with a one armed headlock as he read the letter aloud.

"Hey Trunks, wyd? –Wait, what the hell is WYD?" Vegeta demanded of the boy flailing around in his iron hold. Trunks stubbornly refused to answer until he was soundly clocked on the top of his skull.

"What you doing!" the boy moaned, rubbing his head gingerly.

"And keep still." Vegeta continued reading, "Omg this class is boring .com I can't wait to goh -GOH?"

Trunks sighed. "Get out of here."

"I'm so jelly you get to sit in the back while I'm stuck in the front row sitting next to the weird new kid. SN: His B.O. is cray cray! *GAG* -What the hell?"

"The kid reeks, okay?" Trunks snapped, very much not appreciating being forced to translate something he didn't want read in the first place. He was rewarded with another hard jab to the noggin. "Ouch! Come on, Dad," he pleaded.

"But anyway, I wanted to know if you have a gf or anything bc I think u r really cute LOL :) –What's with all these damn codes anyway?"

"It's not code, it's just how we young people communicate."

Vegeta growled at the not so subtle dig but refrained from striking the smart mouthed boy again. He did, however, tighten the headlock. "Just tell me what all these ridiculous abbreviations mean."

"GF is girlfriend, BC is because and LOL is laughing out loud," Trunks squeaked out.

"Laughing out loud?" Vegeta repeated as he looked at the sentence in the question again. "What is she laughing about? I'm assuming this letter is from a female?"

"What? What do you-, who else would it-, OF COURSE IT'S A FEMALE!" Trunks roared and started thrashing about angrily in his father's hold.

"Settle down son, please don't hurt me," Vegeta taunted through a fit of laughter.

"It's not funny! That was so un-cool!"

"Not funny? Then why am I laughing out loud?"

All Trunks could do was glare down at the floor in frustration as his own father teased him mercilessly.

"And I like you a lot. Do you like me? –Bold one, isn't she? –Well I g2g now, W/B soon or u can hmu on my cell sometime if u want: 090-8703-3111. TTYL –Farris."

"Okay, you read it, happy now? Give it here, please!" Trunks made a last ditch attempt to take back the letter before it was too late but it was held just out of his reach.

"Not so fast kid. –P.S. Oh sorry that I accidentally caught u pitching a tent last period but I was the only one that saw and I swear I won't tell anybody, so don't worry about it K? :)"

Vegeta released Trunks and frowned down at the heavily creased notebook paper. "Pitching a tent? Explain."

"Nothing really to explain, you can't just go around putting up tents at school. That sort of thing is frowned upon, you know?" Trunks blurted. At least he hadn't exactly lied.

"The girl, she was referring to an actual tent?"

"Yep." So much for not exactly lying.

"I see." Vegeta returned the note to his son, as promised, and immediately turned on his heel and strode towards the door.

"Dad," Trunks began warily, "where ya going?"

"To ask Bulma what pitching a tent really means," he replied breezily.

"No! Okay, okay, okay!" Trunks scrambled to block his father's path before he reached the door, because while his alien father was ignorant of certain Earth slang and lingo, his mother unfortunately was not. "I'm sorry for lying, bad move. I'll, I'll tell you, okay? Just please don't tell her! This'll just be between you and me, right?" he begged.

"Don't even think about lying to me again," Vegeta warned. "And you should know better than to think I'd go gossiping to your mother like some idiot female. If you don't give me the truth this time, I'll just beat it out of you."

Trunks took a deep breath and nodded. "Um . . ." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and directed his gaze down at the floor for several moments.

"Well? I don't intend to be here all night."

"OK, let me just start from the beginning." Trunks glanced over his shoulder self consciously at his room door, as if someone might be crouched behind it waiting to eavesdrop on him, before he walked across the room to take up his former position back on the bed. Vegeta followed his lead, taking a seat at his desk chair. "So, it all started yesterday and it was just a normal day at school at first. I went to my English class, then I went to gym-, oh you know how much I hate gym, Dad. I told you about how lame it is and the guy they actually pay to teach kids about physical fitness probably can't even see his own two feet past his fat beach ball belly. I mean, the guy literally sits there eating boxes of donuts the whole time while we—"

"Trunks."

"Oh yeah, anyway, I walked in expecting to see Mr. 'Tubby Tummy' as usual but he wasn't there. We got a new gym teacher, Ms. Fenty, and Ms. Fenty, she's in great shape, no, she's perfect, and her legs are killer, it's like they go on for miles." Trunks nodded his head slowly as he got lost in recollection. "And her skin looks so smooth and soft, and she's got, like, these massive boobs that bounce up and down when she runs down the basketball court in her little shorts. They're so big you can barely see her whistle hanging between 'em. Oh man, I just love to watch her blow that whistle, sometimes I imagine it's my—"

"Boy!"

Trunks snapped out of his trance and chuckled awkwardly, his cheeks reddening. "My bad."

"If you don't get to the damn point soon, I swear to the gods—"

"Okay, okay, okay! So, okay, I usually wear boxers to gym because, let's face it, I'm a Super Saiyan. I have to practically run in slow motion just to go at the same speed as the other kids so I don't really do much moving around, so it's not like I really need any extra support down there. It'd just be a waste of time, you know? I don't even break a sweat—"

"Trunks," Vegeta closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, "My efforts over the course of the last 2 minutes not to throttle you will soon be in vain."

"I got hard watching Ms. Fenty and Farris saw it," Trunks quickly supplied.

Vegeta looked up at him sharply. "Do you mean to tell me I had to sit here and listen to all that incessant drivel just to find out you had an erection?" he nearly yelled. "Surely you've gotten one before?"

"Of course I have!" Trunks shot back defensively. "Just not in the middle of school or, or in front of a girl. It's embarrassing," he mumbled.

"Well she must have liked what she saw, judging by that letter. Who knew there were sluts in 6th grade?" Vegeta snorted.

"A slut? I don't think Farris is a slut."

"Oh really? Tell me about her."

"Well, she's really pretty actually, and nice too. Her mom is a baker and she makes these really elaborate little snack cakes-they're really good-and Farris brings them to school sometimes and shares them with me at lunch. Well, not just me, she gave Jake one the other day—"

"Slut."

"What? How?" Trunks exclaimed.

"Son, you don't want a female that goes around sharing her special cakes with other males."

"But Dad, it's just cake."

Vegeta sighed. He was beginning to realize that maybe for once his wife was actually right. It seemed his son really did need his guidance in dealing with matters regarding the opposite sex because the boy didn't have a damn clue. "Obviously, if that girl really liked you, as she claims she does, she would have shared the cakes with you exclusively."

"Oh, I get it. But how does that make her a slut?"

"I bet you and Jake are not the only boys that got a taste of her cakes, am I right?"

"Yeah . . ."

"And I would also bet that this girl only offers them to boys and never to other females. Right again?"

Trunks nodded slowly.

"This Farris uses confections as a device to lure the males in her environment. She gives them what they want in exchange for their attention. She thrives on it, and the attention of one male is not enough for her. She will likely continue this behavior throughout adolescence and into adulthood, gradually deviating from her current tactic of using edible rewards to tempt males in favor of utilizing her physical assets instead."

"Wow, so instead of using cake to get boys to like her, she'll start using—"

"Her cunt."

"I'll never call Farris again," Trunks vowed solemnly.

His father grunted in approval.

"Besides," a sly grin stretched across the 11 year old's face, "Ms. Fenty's the woman for me."

Vegeta scoffed at what he knew to be an empty, hormone fueled boast but decided to humor the boy anyway. "Are you sure about that?"

"Uh-huh, definitely."

"So, you'd die for this Fenty woman?"

"Er, no," Trunks' right index finger shot up in the air, "But I would waste a crap ton of bad guys for her."

"If you're not willing to die for her, she's not the one," Vegeta informed the boy.

The 11 year old furrowed his lavender brows and chewed on the corner of his bottom lip for a moment in thought before asking, "Well, how are you supposed to know if she's the one you're willing to die for?"

"You'll know because this woman will exert some inexplicable force over your being that cannot be broken, not by your own doing or anyone else's." Vegeta drifted into cogitation and appeared almost oblivious to his son's presence as he spoke. Trunks leaned forward in anticipation of soaking up his father's precious and, as far as Trunks was concerned, infallible wisdom. "This force will render all other women inadmissible and leave you powerless to equate your sole possession of this woman to anything less than exigent need. You will assert the preservation of her life force above your own and, not only would you blast the gods of the galaxies themselves into oblivion without hesitation to protect her, you would forfeit your very soul if necessary and willingly condemn yourself to the rotten bowels of hell for eternity just so she may live."

Trunks stared up at his father in awe. "That's intense," he breathed. "I guess Ms. Fenty isn't the one after all."

"No shit."

"But there's still one problem."

"What?"

"Well she might not be the one but she's still smokin'. I couldn't stop thinking about her last night."

Vegeta smirked. "So, it was this teacher that was responsible for your recent sexual awakening, not your grandfather's magazines."

Trunks blushed. "Well yeah, the magazines are alright but Ms. Fenty's the real deal. How am I supposed to concentrate at school, Dad? I mean, I'm a boxers guy but I guess I'll have to break out the tighty whiteys from now on so no more girls accidentally see my junk," he paused, "I don't think I would mind if Ms. Fenty saw it, though."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"She's smokin'."

"And stop saying 'smokin'!"

Trunks shrugged. "It's the truth."

"As for your little dilemma, the solution is quite simple. Whenever you start to become aroused at school just force yourself to think of the least arousing thing imaginable."

"Like what?"

Vegeta shrugged then. "I don't know, like that principal of yours."

"Ms. Brownley?" Trunks scrunched his face up in disgust. "Gross."

"Exactly. Just one thought of that waddling, pasty skinned, exceptionally hairy creature and any tent you're on the verge of pitching will instantly fail." Both father and son broke out in riotous laughter.

"Yeah, that'll do it," Trunks assured him in between giggles.

Vegeta was still laughing as he stood up from his chair and ruffled his son's fine lavender locks in a rare show of affection. "I think my work here is done," he remarked as he turned to take his leave. He was just about to open the door when he heard his son suddenly call out to him.

"Dad, wait!"

Vegeta paused and inclined his head to the right to indicate he was listening.

"Hey, doesn't Buu have the ability to turn people into anything he wants?"

This caused the Saiyan to turn around completely and regard his son curiously. "I believe so, but the fool has a sick tendency to limit himself to candy." He grimaced as he had a flashback of his own brief stint as a coffee flavored jawbreaker. "Why do you ask?"

"He could turn me into Ms. Fenty's whistle for a day, couldn't he?"

"What would you benefit from becoming a damned whistle, boy?" Vegeta demanded incredulously.

"Are you kidding? She'd have her lips all over me all day long." Trunks laced his fingers behind his head and laid back onto the bed. "I'd die a happy man," he mused dreamily.

Vegeta shook his head at the boy and couldn't help but smirk. He had to give him points for creativity. "Son," he tapped his index finger to his temple, "Stick to thinking with this organ, and you'll be fine. And as for the experience of being reduced to the mass of a tiny immutable object; I really wouldn't recommend it."

Bulma was sitting at her vanity wearing a cream floral kimono and lightly brushing her shoulder length aqua blue tresses when Vegeta came into their bedroom. He paused near the doorway for a moment to take in her profile. Even after over a decade of being with her she was still a sight to behold. Vegeta strolled up next to the vanity smoothly and leaned against the wall. "Making yourself even more hideous?" he quipped.

"That's not the way to talk to the most gorgeous and intelligent woman in the universe. Show some respect." Bulma flipped her hair sassily and didn't even spare him a glance.

Vegeta's eyes gleamed. The woman's confidence was a turn on and he found no fault with her description of herself.

"Whatever." He pushed off from the wall and stalked away.

"Oh Vegeta," Bulma rose from her footstool and followed after him, "How'd it go with Trunks?"

Vegeta stopped and looked at her, right into the enormous pools of brilliant blue that were her eyes. The more he looked, the bigger they seemed to get, and the innocently questing expression in them made him want to deny her nothing.

"None of your damn business," he snapped.

"Alright, I get it. Strictly guy talk, no girls allowed, huh?" Bulma huffed. "I don't need to know the details anyway, just as long as you went and did it like a good little Saiyan Prince." She patted him on the shoulder and sashayed away from him with a wicked grin on her face. This time Vegeta was the one chasing after her, catching her by her elbow and spinning her around to face him.

"I am not your fucking lapdog, woman!" he fumed.

"Whatever you say, Vegeta," she replied nonchalantly. Bulma turned her back to him, untied her kimono and delicately shrugged the silk material from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Her body, well toned but full and rounded in the right places, was adorned only in a black sheer bra and thong set with strategically placed lace accents. It was new. Bulma looked over her shoulder coyly at her husband. "I'm going straight to bed now because I'm very tired, so don't even think about touching me tonight." She had only taken approximately 1.5 steps towards their king sized bed before she was roughly seized and thrust up against a wall.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want to you," he growled softly, caging her in with his powerful arms and pressing his rock hardness between her thighs for emphasis.

Bulma bit her lip at the contact and resisted the urge to close her eyes and moan. She felt the electric currents of desire rippling throughout her body imploring her to give in. Her airy façade was fast crumbling, but still she lifted her chin up to him defiantly. "Are you deaf? I told you not to touch-" was all Bulma managed to utter before her lips were assaulted with a dizzyingly erotic kiss that left her no choice but to drop all pretense. And her panties.

Vegeta was just as helpless against the rapture as he too forgot all about their little game and gave himself over to it completely. He was barely capable of thought as he indulged in all the pleasures of her body reserved solely for him. All he could do was feel. But the very last thought that entered his mind, before it became gone to their blazing passion, was that no matter how many lifetimes the gods gave him, he would never be able to get enough of the blue haired woman. And he held no interest in ever abandoning the attempt.

AN: Thanks for reading! And don't forget to leave a review;-)

*Was looking back over this story and realized that (in Battle of Gods) Vegeta really didn't hesitate to attack a god (Bills/Beerus) over Bulma! Haha awww:)